


love story in the shadow of the arena

by graveltotempo



Series: A Very Sterek Summer Fest 2020 [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, First Dates, Fluff, Ice Cream, Italiano | Italian, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Verona, averystereksummerfest 2020, hand holding, not the tv show, they just work in an office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25608865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graveltotempo/pseuds/graveltotempo
Summary: that awkward moment when the guy you have a crush on takes you out on a date and you have no idea until the end
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Very Sterek Summer Fest 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851298
Comments: 10
Kudos: 299
Collections: A Very Sterek Summer fest 2020





	love story in the shadow of the arena

**Author's Note:**

> translations at the end mwah!

“Stiles,” came a voice from the intercom, and the brown haired man had to stop himself from smacking his own forehead against the table.

Erica, sitting a desk away from him, gave him her usual evil -  _ evil  _ \- smile, and he allowed himself time to stick his tongue out to her before clicking the answer button. “Mr. Hale?” he drawled, as calm as possible.

There was a slight pause, and Stiles knew it was because of his response.

Up until a few weeks ago, Stiles had been the only person in the office capable of going toe to toe with their boss, one Derek Hale. Stiles always called him by his first name, never backing down from an argument against him, basically doing everything in his power to piss off the man - according to Vernon Boyd in HR - or try to get himself fired - according to Isaac Lahey, recruitment.

The man spoke after a few seconds. “Please come into my office,” he said, and Stiles stilled nervously for a second.

He looked up to where the office was, curtains drawn and he swallowed. 

“Someone’s in trouble,” sing sang Erica, and the man glared at her, even as he collected some of his files.

Scott McCall - who sat at the desk next to his - gave him a thumbs up that seemed anything but convincing. “He probably just needs your expertise with something. You’re the best in the office, after all,” he told him encouraging, and Stiles nodded.

It’s not like he was being arrogant or anything of the sort. There were a total of nine people working in this particular office - Derek Hale, their boss; Cora Hale and Isaac Lahey, recruitment; Vernon Boyd, HR; Erica Reyes, advertising; Allison Argent, Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski in sales; Liam Dunbar, receptionist - and Stiles bested all of them when it came to numbers and results.

Still, he dragged his feet a little, until he couldn't stall any longer and knocked at the door.

“Come in,” came his boss’ voice moments later, and Stiles sighed a little before walking inside.

Derek was, as per usual, sitting at his seat behind his laptop, glasses perched on his nose and gaze settled on his laptop. He didn't look up when Stiles walked inside, making a vague gesture towards the empty chair, and Stiles complied.

The brunet almost failed at keeping his gaze away from Derek’s exposed forearms - there was something terribly sexy about his blazer resting on his chair while the sleeves of his pullover were rolled like  _ that  _ \- but he managed to keep his mouth resolutely shut.

After a few more seconds of silence in which Stiles concentrated really hard on his fingernails to quell his anxiety and wandering eyes, Derek cleared his throat.

“Stiles,” he started, and the brunet looked up, trying to keep himself as professional as ever. “Have I done something to upset you?”

The question came so far out of the field that Stiles blinked at him in confusion for more seconds than necessary. 

Derek’s expression looked… contrite. He looked like he sucked on a lemon, and a little nervous too, which Stiles did not understand. At all.

He shook his head slowly, tilting his head to the side. “No, not really?”

The man’s lips quirked an infinitesimal amount. “Are you asking me?”

Before he could stop himself, Stiles rolled his eyes. “No, not really,”

He swallowed back a groan at his own actions. Derek didn't seem to mind his insolence, but then again, Derek had  _ never  _ minded it. Derek would complain and threaten him, but he was all bark no bite.

No, Stiles hadn’t stopped calling him ‘Derek’ and started being polite and courteous because of something Derek did. He knew Derek didn’t care.

He was doing it for  _ himself. _

See, children, he had done the most stupid thing in the world and had gone ahead and had, one barb about his stupid beard and his stupid muscles at a time, fallen in love with his own boss.

Yes, he knew: the most stupid cliche’ to ever exist.

There was no rule about not dating in the workplace in their office, as long as it was declared - Stiles was very much aware that half of the office had slept with the other half - so that wasn’t the problem.

The _problem_ was that, as far as he had seen and had been told, Derek  _ didn’t  _ do relationship. 

Erica had told him, when she had realised Stiles’ feelings (before him, even), about an old coworker of theirs - Jennifer Blake - that had tried to steal and sell information about their office to other companies by dating and coercing the information out of Derek. Cora had been the only one to notice what was happening and she had been poisoned by Jennifer, who had then fled the office.

Thankfully, she was now in prison, but the effects of being tricked into sleeping with someone who just wanted to harm you didn’t  _ dissipate _ .

So to protect his own feelings and try to fall _out_ of love before Derek noticed and became uncomfortable with him, Stiles had decided to go cold turkey. No more being too flirty with the other man, no more calling him ‘Derek’, no more playfulness.

But his body automatically reacted to being in Derek’s presence, and old habits died hard.

Derek stared at him too hard for a few seconds, clearly looking for a trace of a lie, and Stiles stared back, hoping Derek could see the truth in his eyes but also not  _ too much  _ truth.

“Very well,” he concluded, gaze once more decided. “I would like you to accompany me to Verona next week,” he then said, like it was nothing.

Stiles blinked once more. “Verona…  _ Italy? _ ”

Derek quirked an eyebrow. “Do you know any other Verona?”

Stiles managed to squash a snarky reply down, instead going with curious, confused and wary at once. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr Hale.”

The man’s mouth turned a little in displeasure at the name, but he spoke nevertheless. “Laura wants me to close some contracts for Hale Enterprises, in Italy. I need someone to accompany me,” he shrugged. “I chose you.”

Laura Hale was the CEO of Hale Enterprises, and Stiles didn’t see her that often. He knew, however, that she was a boss bitch that saved the company from the brick of death when her parents died, at the tender age of 23. 

She was the best of the best, and her brother was also the best. So Stiles understood why, even though she adored her secretary Lydia, she has chosen to send her brother instead.

What he didn’t understand was why Derek was asking _him_ to come with. If Laura had deemed it a situation that required more than one person, she would have assigned one more person. She had done it before.

Then again, she could have left the ball in her brother’s court to pick who he wanted to bring.

Which brought forth the point:  _ why  _ would Derek want to bring  _ him _ of all people? He was a little annoying - he was man enough to admit that - and he sometimes - _often_ \- struggled with authority. 

But, he realised, he was good at his job. Which was why he was admitted a little more leeway than most people in the office. He was an hyperactive spaz, but he knew exactly what to do, and he could be a charming genius when situation dictated so.

It made sense, even though his heart clenched and hurt and leaped in joy at the thought of being so far away from home  _ alone  _ with Derek Hale. 

“Sure,” he finally said, pretending that the choice was easy. It was, but it’s also  _ not _ . “I’ll come with.”

Derek seemed to let out a careful breath, and his shoulders relaxed a little. Stiles wanted to mock him for being so nervous, and then put his hand on his shoulder and maybe kiss his forehead.

It was terrifying, but Stiles is sure he’ll get over it. He’ll get over this crush, and soon enough he’d be joking around with Derek once again and they would be working with one another without trouble.

He could do it.

* * *

He cannot do it.

Stiles and Derek had ended up in first class seats close to each other and the brunet had not had time to  _ pretend  _ to fall asleep before Derek had roped him into a discussion about whether  _ The Empire Strikes Back  _ was in any way better than  _ The Last Jedi.  _

It was a long and heated conversion that ended with Stiles finding the movies on the selections on the small first class tvs and then he and Derek, shoulder to shoulder, sharing over priced peanuts as they watched the movies.

Stiles realised their position halfway through the first movie and was unable to concentrate for the rest of the flight.

They arrived in Italy late in the afternoon and Derek took him to a small restaurant less than one hour after arriving to the hotel. Thankfully they had separate bedrooms, connected by a door that they both agreed had to be knocked at  _ extensively  _ before being opened.

The restaurant was rustic, and looked a lot like Italian restaurants look like in movies. Derek had chosen a small two people table for the two of them, and Stiles picked up his menu, very much ignoring how his knee brushes against Derek’s legs the moment he sat down.

“Have you been here before?” he questioned, mostly looking at the pictures on the menu since most of the Italian words eluded him.

“Nope,” answered Derek, carefully eyeing the words. “Trip advisor.”

Stiles gasped, trying to rein in his laughter at this. “The illustrious Mr Hale uses trip advisor?”

The older man had the  _ audacity  _ to pout at this. “It’s good,” he complained, and Stiles bit his lip to stop from bursting out laughing at this reaction.

Instead he put down the menu, shaking his head slightly. “Did you check if they understand English? I have some basic Spanish from High School, but I doubt romance languages are  _ that  _ similar to each other.”

“You’d actually be surprised,” told him Derek. “A Spanish person could survive in Italy, and vice versa. The language rules differ, but many words are the same.”

“Buona sera,” came the voice of a waiter, smiling widely at both of them as she stopped next to their table. “Tutto bene? Volete ordinare adesso?”

Stiles just stared at her, but Derek smiled back. “Si, grazie. Potrei avere un [risotto alla zucca](https://www.lacucinaimperfetta.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/Risotto-alla-zucca.jpg) per primo, un’[insalata caprese](https://www.donnamoderna.com/content/uploads/2004/09/insalata-alla-caprese-830x625.jpg) per secondo e un [budino alla crema](https://www.deabyday.tv/data/guides/cucina-e-ricette/dolci/Come-fare-il-budino-alla-crema/image_big_16_9/A9001056.jpg)?”

The woman nodded, neither of them paying attention to Stiles staring wide eyed and open mouthed. “E da bere?”

“Per ora soltanto acqua, grazie,” answered the other, finally turning to Stiles. He arched an eyebrow. “Are you trying to catch flies? Close your mouth.”

The woman’s eyes widened when she caught the English words, looking at Derek in surprise. “Sei inglese?”

“Americano,” he corrected her, and Stiles latched at the familiar word.

“Do they serve americano, here? Cause I need some after this stunt you just pulled!”

Derek rolled his eyes, albeit fondly. Stiles liked to think it was fond. “Idiot.  _ ‘Americano’  _ means american in Italian. Place your order.”

The brunet pouted, crossing his arms across his chest. “Mr Hale, I cannot do that after what  _ you  _ just did. It’ll be embarrassing. You do it.”

Derek stared at him hard for a second, then a little smirk came to his face. “Only if you stop calling me Mr Hale,” he traded.

Stiles looked at him for a second, a little perplexed. Sure, Derek had been a little confused at the change in nickname, but Stiles hadn’t realised he  _ minded _ . Back in the BCRE - Before Realising Crush Era - his boss had always complained that Stiles should be more polite and more professional. If anything, he had expected Derek to be happy.

But he wasn’t - maybe? - and wanted Stiles to go back to calling him Derek?

It was a little strange, and also would certainly _not_ help dissolve his feelings; but then again this  _ whole trip  _ wasn’t helping his feelings. 

“Fine... Derek,” he said, drawing out the word as slowly as possible just to irritate him more. See? He had merely used his name and already he was doing stuff that would make his crush worse. “I want the ball like pasta in the white stuff, the crispy thing with tomatoes and the fruit salad.”

Derek smirked, immediately locating the foods from the vague descriptions and turning to the woman. “Per lui, una porzione di [gnocchi alla sorrentina](https://www.cucchiaio.it/content/cucchiaio/it/ricette/2019/04/gnocchi-alla-sorrentina/jcr:content/header-par/image-single.img10.jpg/1556025405382.jpg), fritelle di melanzane con pomodorini per second and [macedonia](https://dolciveloci.it/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/SH_macedonia.jpg) per dessert.”

The woman nodded, giving Stiles a quick smile, receiving one before turning to Derek. “Perfetto. I vostri piatti saranno protti in un attimo, anche se penso che il tuo cibo arrivera’ prima di quello del tuo fidanzato,” she said and Stiles watched the blush blossoming on Derek's cheeks in part fascination and slight frustration.

“Grazie mille,” answered the older man, and she flashed him another smile before walking away.

“What did she tell you to make you blush like that?” immediately questioned Stiles, intrigued.

Derek just shrugged, picking up a bread stick. “I wasn’t blushing. She just said that my food might get here first.”

She probably had tried to hit on him, decided Stiles, sitting back in his chair more comfortably and picking up a bread stick himself.

When Derek turned the topic of conversation back to the meeting of the next day, Stiles allowed it.

+

The meeting… disappointed Stiles a little.

He had expected a complicated client that he would show off his expertise to by showing off his sale pitching skills. He expected goading him into choosing Hale Enterprises, telling him why they were better than any other competitor and the likes.

Instead Derek greeted him in perfect Italian -  _ asshole,  _ was there anything he couldn’t do? - and after one single pitch by Stiles, he was sold. Stiles could only gape at the man and his translator as they signed only five minutes after they had started talking about the sale, no compromise and no counter offer.

Derek didn’t seem particularly cut out about it, but Stiles was more than a little confused. No offense to her but  _ Allison  _ could have made this pitch, and she had only been working there for a three weeks. Boyd could have made that sale and Boyd wasn’t  _ even in sales. _

“So I guess I should pack my bags?” he asked, as they stepped outside of the small office they were in.

He shouldn’t be upset about this, he should be relieved. This meant that they had no reason to stay in Italy two more days, and that he’d be back in his office keeping his crush in check and being a-okay.

The taller man turned to him, confusion clear in his face. “Pack your bag?”

“The deal is done, isn’t it?” asked Stiles, ignoring how bitter his words tasted in his own mouth. 

Something crossed Derek’s face, too quick for even someone as well versed in Derek-speak as he was to discern. The man pulled sunglasses on his eyes, and shrugged. “Yes. But the tickets are non refundable,” he told him.

The Hales had money. They owned the company Derek worked for, and they had just come to Verona in first class seats. Stiles knew they have more than enough money to get a new pair of tickets to go home  _ now  _ if Derek wanted.

Which meant that Derek didn’t want to leave anymore than Stiles. Probably for different reasons than his own -  _ definitely  _ for different reasons than his own - but he also wanted to stay a little longer. Stiles wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“So…” he said instead, looking up at Derek.

“So,” agreed the other man, an actual smile gracing his lips. It was just a little before noon - because Derek was a freak and thought that 11 am meetings were just normal and cool - and they had brunch with the client. And since they  _ didn’t  _ have to leave now, they had time.

“Want to go out with me?” he then added, and he must have forgotten his sun screen because his cheeks were turning a little red. “We can go around the shops, and see some stuff around, and maybe have dinner together later.”

It sounded like fun.  _ It sounds like a date,  _ whispered his traitorous heart, but Stiles squashed that down immediately. “That sounds nice.” he agreed, nodding and pulling out his sunglasses too. “Piazza delle Erbe, first?” he asked, already knowing his pronunciation left a lot to be desired.

Derek smiled, bright and genuinely happy like Stiles saying those words was something he didn’t expect, which, uh?

Though, after all, he had been a little cold ever since he started calling him Mr Hale instead of Derek, so there was that. 

That must be it.

* * *

Stiles should have noticed it after they started checking out the small shops and stands around Piazza delle Erbe. But it wasn’t like it was something so strange that it would have made him stop in his tracks and  _ realise _ .

Derek had always been a nice person, despite his very grumpy exterior. Whenever Erica proposed one of her crazy parties and collected money from everyone in the office, Derek always gave the biggest amount, even though often he was the one who had to be begged to participate.

He always paid for everything that broke in the office and then later on submitted the receipts to Boyd in HR, and only when the rest of the office snitched on him. 

But still, it wasn’t exactly  _ normal  _ for him to buy things specifically for someone in the office because he had noticed them looking at it.

Or maybe it was and Stiles didn’t know any better.

Point is, Stiles had only noticed the snow globe after buying half of the things in the small stand - there was a particular bag of dick pasta that he had cackled about for 5 minutes before buying two bags, one for himself and one for Erica - and had stopped with wide eyes.

His mother had used to collect snow globes, back when she was still alive. She loved them, especially the Christmas ones. When Stiles was younger, there hadn’t been one single free shelf in the house that wasn’t covered in the small crystal balls.

She used to called them ‘memory globes’ and say that she put a happy and special memory in every one she purchased, and that was why they were so important.

After her death, his father had come back one day, drunk out of his mind and destroyed all of the snow globes he could get his hands on. Stiles had tried to save one, but his father had shoved him aside and the ball had fallen on the ground and cut the small boy.

That was the last time John Stilinski had ever gotten drunk like that ever again.

Part of him wanted to buy the snow globe. Put his own memories inside, and remember a good side of his mom that he had lost after she died.

But he kind of didn’t have much money left. The people in the stands didn’t take credit cards, let alone american credit cards, and the number on the paper attached on the snow globe was higher than that of the notes left in his pockets. He’d have to come back later or tomorrow with more money.

Except, less than five minutes later, Derek was standing next to him, shifting from foot to foot with the globe in the palm of his hand and red splotches on his face.

“Come again?” he asked, blinking at the glass sphere in Derek’s hand.

“This is for you,” repeated Derek, still a little shifty. “You were looking at it like you wanted it, so here.”

Stiles felt his own cheeks reddening a little. “I was just going to wait to get to the bank near the hotel and take out some of my money. I’m not broke, I can pay you bac-”

“No,” immediately said Derek, growing tired and putting the globe in one of Stiles’ bags. “Consider it a present. Keep it.”

_ For what _ ? wanted to ask Stiles, eyebrows narrowing a little. He hadn’t done anything to Derek that warranted a gift.

Or maybe it was a thank you gift for coming with him to Italy and help him close the sale? Even though it hadn’t been a  _ hard  _ deal to seal and that being in Italy for  _ free  _ was prize enough, perhaps Derek wanted to give him a token of sorts. 

That warmed him a little. Derek was always so nice to his coworkers and subordinates. “Thank you,” he finally said, smiling a little.

Derek stopped shifting around, and even with the tinted sunglasses, he could see the crinkle in his eyes when he smiled back. “No problem.”

Stiles should have noticed it then, but him  _ not  _ noticing wasn’t that weird. Derek was always nice to everyone.

He should have  _ really  _ noticed it as they walked around the town square. 

Stiles had found, through the trusted google maps a place by the name of ‘ _ Gelateria Fior Di Latte _ ’ that sold artisan ice cream and had promptly begged Derek to take him there.

Derek had huffed and puffed for about 30 seconds before seeing the pictures that Google Maps had to offer and agreeing that it would be a crime for them to be in Verona and not  _ at least  _ try some of it.

It was afternoon now, and Piazza delle Erbe was full, despite the heat of the sun above them. The gelateria was all the way in Piazza Bra’, which was technically only a 5 minutes walk.

But they kept getting separated because Stiles’ attention kept getting taken away by the pretty sights around him, and were moving slower than normal.

And then Derek grabbed his hand.

For a second Stiles didn’t realise that it was Derek holding his hand, because of how  _ absurd  _ the thought was. But then he looked at said hand and back up to where the older man was looking at him worriedly, sunglasses on top of his head.

Of course, realised Stiles. He was just afraid of losing Stiles in the crowd - even though there wasn’t a lot of crowd around - since Stiles kept stopping at every flashy and pretty light going around.

He definitely should have noticed when, after getting their ice cream - “lampone e gianduia” for Derek and “vanilla is the same in both languages? Great, vanilla and the… cioc-co-lato is chocolate, right? Man, I’m  _ great  _ at this!” - and they walked out and Derek was still holding his hand.

But Piazza Bra’ was even busier than Piazza Delle Erbe, so it still made sense for him to not realise.

He definitely should have noticed when, after going through 'Castelvecchio', the 'Arco dei Gavi' and the 'Basilica di San Lorenzo', they arrived at the house of Juliet almost an hour later (still holding hands).

The house of Juliet wasn’t, of course, Juliet’s  _ real house _ , but with the way tourists were camped all around, you wouldn’t know. There was a statue of Juliet standing in all its bronze beauty not too far from the balcony, and most people were standing around it, saying things and touching it in a variety of different languages.

When Stiles turned to Derek in confusion, the older man shrugged. “There is a legend that you can pray to the statue to help you with your love life. And, see the wall?” the brunet turned to see a wall covered in various different handwriting, all in different fonts and colours, with different names written. “You can write your name and someone’s else name to make sure that your relationship lasts forever.”

“Aw,” immediately said Stiles, smiling a little. He wasn’t particularly superstitious, and didn’t necessarily believe in magic. But he believed in karma and the universe. “That’s sweet.”

When Derek turned to him, a strange determination in his eyes and said, “Maybe one day we’ll come back here and write our names,”, Stiles should have realised what was up. It should have clicked then, he should have noticed what was happening, should have  _ known _ .

Instead his heart dropped a little at those words. Because Derek was imagining them both coming back here together with their own significant others and write down their names. 

Still, he forced a little brittle smile on his face, grateful that he had at least, left his sunglasses on himself. “Yeah. One day.”

Derek's smile blossomed again, happy and bright, and Stiles’ heart hurt a little more.

+

It clicked a few hours later, as they were walking inside ‘ _ Hard Rock Cafe Verona’ _ . And it clicked because there was a large fucking clue plastered on the windows of the cafe.

Stiles might not be fluent in any romance language, but he was smart enough and knew enough to recognise what the pink and red hearts on the banner, the drawing of cupid with love arrows in his hands and the words ‘ _ notte dell’amore _ ’ meant.

He glanced quickly at Derek, and the other blushed a little even as he pulled them both inside - because he was  _ still  _ holding his hand, and there were  _ no  _ crowds around, not now - and there was no way it was the sun, because the sun had all but set by now.

Derek kept holding his hand until they sat down in front of each other at a small table, and everywhere he looked, there were couples sitting with each other. The staff were walking around in ridiculous cupid outfits, and Stiles gaped at the man in front of him, everything making sense.

The present, the ice cream Derek had insisted on paying for, the continuous hand holding, the wall…

“This is a  _ date _ ,” he finally said, staring Derek in stupor.

Derek looked up at him, frowning slightly. “Yeah…?” he finally agreed, and even though Stiles had guessed it, that simple word had him freezing in shock.

Holy shit this was a  _ date _ .

_ He  _ was on a date.

With  _ Derek. _

Holy  _ shit. _

“Stiles,” tried the other, a little confused.

Finally the brunet unfroze, and pointed an accusing finger at Derek. “You didn’t tell me!”

Instead of looking horrified or guilty, Derek looked affronted. “I did! I literally said, ‘ _ Want to go out with me _ ?’”

Stiles wanted to say, ‘ _ No, you didn’t _ ’, except… except, now that he looked back he could recall with horrifying detail Derek saying  _ exactly  _ those words. 

Derek had, in fact, asked him out, looking all blushy and nervous - and  _ not  _ from the sun. And Stiles, he had agreed, and Derek had looked so pleased, and  _ holy shit _ .

“But… Jennifer,” he said, mentally wincing. Derek expression went a little pained, but mostly confused, so Stiles continued. “Erica said that, after her, you don’t date.”

The green eyed man looked particularly puzzled at that, then his face went a little clearer and slightly amused. “Is that, exactly what she said?”

“Yeah?”

“Stiles,” said Derek, in an almost exasperated tone of voice, which. Rude. “Did Erica say that I didn’t date anyone after Jennifer or that I don’t date anyone, after Jennifer? There is a difference.”

Stiles stared at him in confusion. There was?

His eyes widened. There was!

And Erica, Erica had said, after explaining about Jennifer, “ _ So, after all that, Derek didn’t date anyone else _ ”. Stiles had thought it a cautionary tale; Erica protecting him from heartbreak.

He hadn’t realised Erica was all but giving her blessing by telling Stiles about being careful with Derek.

From the look on the older man’s face, it was clear he realised that Stiles had realised. “Idiot,” he said fondly, shaking his head.

For once, deserved. Though, “And yet, you still asked me out.” He grinned when Derek’s cheeks reddened at that. “You have it bad, Mr Hale,” he started with a smirk, then his eyes widened even more. “Wait a minute. Did you even  _ need  _ me to be here to help the sale?”

Derek finally smiled too, a smug little thing. “No _ p _ e.”

“You sneaky bastard!” 

Derek shrugged, still smiling. “You like it.”

And well… he did.

* * *

The next year they came back on the anniversary of their first date and wrote their names next to each other on the wall.

**Author's Note:**

> Buona sera: good evening
> 
> Tutto bene? Volete ordinare adesso?: everything good? Would you like to order now?
> 
> Si, grazie. Potrei avere un risotto alla zucca per primo, un’insalata caprese per secondo e un budino alla crema?: yes, please. Could I have a pumpkin risotto for first, a caprese salad for second and cream pudding?
> 
> E da bere?: and drink?
> 
> Per ora soltanto acqua, grazie: only water for now, thank you.
> 
> Sei inglese?: are you English?
> 
> Americano,: American.
> 
> Per lui, una porzione di gnocchi alla sorrentina, fritelle di melanzane con pomodorini per second and macedonia per dessert: for him, a portion of sorrento style gnocchi, eggplant pancakes with tomatoes for second and fruit salad for dessert.
> 
> Perfetto. I vostri piatti saranno protti in un attimo, anche se penso che il tuo cibo arrivera’ prima di quello del tuo fidanzato,: Perfect, your plates will be ready in a moment, even though I think your food will get here before your boyfriend's.
> 
> Grazie mille,: thank you very much
> 
> lampone e gianduia: raspberry and gianduia
> 
> notte dell'amore: night of love


End file.
